


Resistance in St Clair

by aimeewrites



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Kathryn Janeway Needs a Hug, WW2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28879701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeewrites/pseuds/aimeewrites
Summary: Stranded in the Void, Kathryn Janeway feels herself slip into depression. Deciding she should use her time better, she goes to the Holodeck, to the WW2 simulation.Catherine, owner of The Coeur de Lion and leader of the Maquis, the Resistance movement , has to deal with Sept's temper, and with the arrival of a SOE agent named Chakotay...How will Janeway deal with her holo- and real- feelings?No Hirogens here, and although parts of the holo-programme are the same, others ...aren't
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Emptiness. Boredom. Ennui. Lassitude. The captain could think of a number of names to describe what she was currently experiencing. She also had a feeling that if she was to submit to one of the Doctor’s thorough examinations – physical and psychological – he would diagnose her as depressed. Since Voyager had entered the Void, Janeway had sunk into a deep slump and chosen to isolate herself from her crew. Of course, remaining in her quarters listening to Mahler’s 3rd symphony may not have been the best way to snap out of it. She almost wished they were under attack – at least she would have to force herself to act. Chakotay tried to get her to the holodecks, but to no avail. She certainly didn’t want to play Velocity – she scarcely had enough energy to get up in the morning. She had never felt so alone in her life and yet she didn’t want to see anybody. Not Chakotay and his empathy. Not Seven of Nine, with whom she had argued way too much lately – there was only so much individuality one could tolerate. Not Tuvok and his Vulcan calm, which at the moment made her want to scream.

Her sense of duty finally won – if there were no real enemies to fight, she could still prepare for potential attacks. When she had integrated the Maquis crew into Voyager’s, Tuvok had suggested to her that they should create holodeck programmes to provide for all contingencies. He had developed a scenario where the newcomers mutinied and had to be fought. Tom Paris had drawn on his interest for 20th -century Earth history and had recreated a World War Two scenario, where everyone had to work together against a common enemy, the Nazis/Cardassians. And just for fun, he had cast her into a leader of the then Maquis – the Resistance movement. Janeway – or Catherine, her character – was the owner of the Coeur de Lion, a bar in the small village of St Clair, in central France. Since she had nothing better to do, she decided she should go and see if it could be of any use to her. Maybe she could learn a few tricks untaught at the Academy.

****

“Give me a rose to show how much you care

Tie to the stem a lock of golden hair

Surely tomorrow, you'll feel blue

But then will come a love that's new

For you, Lili Marlene

For you, Lili Marlene…”

Her troublesome Borg certainly had a lovely voice, thought Catherine as she watched Sept leaning against the piano. She was also a munition expert, and completely devoted to the cause. Or was she? Of late, several incidents had made Catherine doubt her loyalty, and in the Maquis, there was no room for traitors. Catherine bit her lips – it would break her heart if she had to – dispose - of Sept. Since the young woman had come into her life, Catherine had felt a special connection to her. She had never really wanted children of her own, but Sept had awoken all her maternal instincts. To help shape her mind had often felt to Catherine Janeway like her greatest accomplishment. And the idea that she could have been mistaken – that she had given her time and her – well, yes, her love – to a traitor… No – that just wasn’t possible. Not that Sept had really been grateful to her for having saved her from what would be a terrible death in a concentration camp if the Cardassians ever took her prisoner. Being different had become a crime under the 3rd Reich. Luckily for her, Sept had few visible traits showing what she was – her hair and clothes were disguises enough. When she had arrived in St Clair, fleeing the North of France where the Cardassians were persecuting her species, she had had almost nothing to her name. Her identity papers, stamped with a big red B, had had to be destroyed. She had no photographs of her family – no tangible memories of the parents who had been sent to their death in Cardassia, no personal belongings, and no one. A resistance movement had helped her and several younger boys and girls to escape, and Catherine had taken her in. The boys had to remain hidden, having more noticeable Borg traits than the girls, but Catherine had thought it would be better to hide Sept in full view, and that’s how the girl had ended up as part-time singer, part-time waitress at her bar.

The entry of two high-ranking Cardassians in their vert-de-gris uniforms interrupted her musings. Catherine Janeway hated them with all of her being, and even with her best acting skills, she found it difficult to muster a smile. And yet, she not only had to smile, she had to make them feel welcome – desired, even. Her own safety and that of her whole Resistance network depended on it. She was fully aware that many of the village’s inhabitants despised her for it. The murmurs of “collabo” when she shopped in the village made sure of it. So much that she tended to hide in her bar, letting her friends shop for her –Kes, a young girl who sometimes helped out with the washing-up and Neelix, the cook. As her employees, they came up for some criticisms too, but work was scarce, and people understood that Kes and Neelix had no choice if they wanted to eat. She slapped a smile on her face and went up to the bar to ask Tuvok, her bartender, for a bottle of Saint-Emilion – not the best vintage, but something palatable enough she could bring to the officers’ table. She had to know if they were awaiting more troops. The day before, she had been warned a Special Operation Executive – a radio operator – was due to arrive from England imminently. If the Cardassians caught him or her, it would be a disaster.

“Go on singing,” she hissed to Sept as she brushed past her. “They like you, and I need them in a good mood. Too much is at stake.”

The younger woman glared at her but obeyed, and Catherine stifled a sigh and went to join the officers at their table. 


	2. Chapter 2

As Catherine checked the number of bottles of cognac and wine left in the bar, she listened to the radio that droned on in the background. She couldn’t appear to be too interested, as several drinkers in enemy uniforms lingered in the room, but she was waiting for a signal. As the personal messages came on line, she perked up, knowing one of them would announce the imminent arrival of the SOE from England. As she had several times before, she would go to meet the plane and bring him to the relative safety of her attic. After a long list, the awaited message came: “Fernande est amoureuse.” Fernande is in love – a absolute nonsense for any Cardassian listening, but the signal she had been waiting for. That night, she put on dark trousers and a black jumper, tied her hair and made sure no one knew she was living. No even Sept, who had a room over the bar too. She checked she had everything – a torch, and her gun. Not that she wanted to shoot anyone, but she wouldn’t hesitate if it was to save her own life or that of the British agent. She wondered briefly what he would look like – the other three she had helped had blended quite well into the village population. One of them had only been in transit to another Maquis network. The other two, unfortunately, had been killed – or at least, she hoped they had, for they had both been caught and taken to Cardassian headquarters, which meant unfathomable torture.

As she waited hidden behind a tree, Catherine Janeway stifled a yawn. The current situation was taking its toll, and when her nights weren’t sleepless, they were plagued by nightmares. So many people depended on her – as one of the rare women in charge of a Resistance network, she felt she had even more to prove than the men. But it wasn’t only a matter of pride – each and every decision she took could mean the difference between life and death, not only for herself but for the whole village. The Cardassians would not hesitate to execute innocents to punish the Maquis – they had done so before, in another village nearby, going as far as rounding up people, women and children included, taking them to the church and setting fire to it. A massacre. Her musings were interrupted by the by-now familiar sound of an aircraft, followed a few minutes later by the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground. Catherine crept out of her hiding place and proceeded silently to the origin of the sound.

“Vous êtes Catherine?”

Catherine started when she heard the voice. She hadn’t heard the man’s footsteps. He was taller than her – but then, that was rather usual, dark-skinned, and, she noticed even in the darkness, very handsome.

“Yes – I’m Catherine – we can speak English.”

“Well – come and help me with this, will you?” said the stranger, pointing to his parachute. “We can’t exactly leave it here, can we? And I don’t suppose we ought to linger too long.”

Catherine bristled a little at being ordered about – usually, she was the one giving orders. But she knew the man was right – the more they remained where they were, the more chances they had to encounter a Cardassian patrol. As she helped roll up the parachute, she enquired acidly: “Do I get to know your name?”

“You can call me Chakotay. Now – take this while I grab the radio set.”

Catherine knew there was little chance this was the man’s real name , but she thought it suited him – it had an exotic ring to it.

They managed to reach the village without being seen and Catherine led the way to the attic, knowing that they would have to do something with the parachute, but too weary to take care of it for now. The blackout curtains were heavy enough to allow them to light a lamp, and for the first time, Catherine took a good view of the new radio operator. He smiled at her, displaying a row of white teeth. She saw he had a tattoo on his forehead, and wondered what it meant. He was quite obviously what the Cardassians would call a “half-breed”. A handsome man indeed - and Catherine couldn’t help but feel impressed by the risks he was taking to help a country which was not his own. Like Sept, he was putting himself in danger twice – by being a Maquis member, and by being a “half-breed”.

“Would you like a cup of coffee and something to eat?”, offered Catherine. “Well, not real coffee – we haven’t had that for a long time, but the ersatz is almost all right.”

“I would like that. Thank you.”

“I’ll be right back – the bathroom is downstairs, if you need to… Freshen up.”

As she made her way to the kitchen, Catherine thought longingly of the days of real coffee. Coffee was almost her only vice, and she missed it terribly. The chicory beverage they had to drink instead wasn’t a patch on the real thing. Neelix had told her he could get the real stuff on the Black Market, but she just couldn’t bear to give money to people who exploited the situation for their own ends. Even though she was a Maquis leader, she also liked rules. She wouldn’t submit to the occupiers’ , but she would try at all costs to stay true to her values – even if she had to do without coffee. She made two cups of chicory – at least it wouldn’t keep them awake – and two sandwiches – leaving in a village, they at least had enough ham, cheese and eggs. She took the tray back upstairs, tiptoeing again so as not to wake Sept and found her new guest wearing only a singlet. The attic, freezing cold in winter, became like a furnace in summer, and she couldn’t blame the man for having shed a few layers. She put the tray on the table, took a cup for herself and gestured towards the food: “All yours – I’m not feeling very hungry.” She hadn’t been able to eat anything earlier, too tense, and now she was too exhausted to feel hunger. Chakotay fell on the sandwiches as if he hadn’t eaten for days. For all she knew, it might have been the case.

While Chakotay ate, he covertly watched the Maquis leader. Even in the semi-darkness, he found the woman exquisite – she had that je ne sais quoi of French women – a mix of elegance and mystery under which she detected a touch of steeliness. Madame Catherine was probably not one to be toyed with. He hoped he would get to find out, though.

When he had finished the sandwiches and the apple Catherine had added to the tray, he wiped her mouth and hands and lifted her eyes towards her: “So – tell me all I need to know about this place. The Coeur de Lion, I mean. I’ve studied the area, but the more details I know, the easier it will be for me to work.”


	3. Chapter 3

They were still in the Void, and Janeway was still avoiding her crew. She had tried every tactic she knew for getting out of her depression, but nothing had worked. Not meditation, not writing in her personal log, not reading the most depressing 19th century novels she could replicate, not coffee ice cream and not the “happy pills” the Doctor had given her. Well, she hadn’t tried those – she had managed to negotiate not having an injection and getting pills instead, but even the Emergency Medical Hologram hadn’t tried to make her swallow them by force. She barely had enough energy to function – she hadn’t even gone to the holodeck for a few days. In fact, her holodeck programme had become part of the problem. She should never have added members of her crew to it – it was all very well to think that what happened in St Clair remained in St Clair, that anything – and anyone- in the holodeck was only an assembly of photons and force fields, but it wasn’t true. The feelings were all too real – especially when one interacted with “real” characters. She hadn’t exactly planned for Chakotay to arrive in St Clair, but she had allowed the programme free will over what characters from the crew it would use. And now – well, now, even in her holo-life, she was faced with her growing attraction for her first officer. She couldn’t have a relationship with a subordinate – that was a strict Starfleet rule, and a personal rule as well. Even in a fantasy life – or… Could she maybe succumb in fantasy and keep her relation with Chakotay strictly professional in real life? If she ever got out of her quarters, that is…

A month later – in the holodeck, one could definitely manipulate the space-time continuum at will - Catherine wanted to strangle Sept with her bare hands – not only the young woman had shown definite hostility towards some of their guests, she had also disappeared just before she was supposed to entertain the diners in the bar. As she often had lately, she wondered about the girl’s loyalty. Of course, no one had asked her opinion before whisking her off to this remote French village. But she had shown no real affection since she had arrived – she remained… Aloof. Cold. Almost unfeeling. Catherine knew she was probably being unfair. She herself had been devastated when she had lost her father, and she had been older. Sept had lost her whole family, and she probably suffered from survivor’s guilt as well. Catherine remembered all too well how that felt – when her father and her fiancé had died in a car accident of which she had been the only survivor, she had wanted nothing more than to join them in death. Oh – God! What if Sept was suicidal? No – it probably wasn’t that – she had probably just got detained somewhere. As if to fray Catherine’s nerves a little more, the Cardassian officers made their entry and went to their usual table. She gritted her teeth and putting on her best smile, she went to make small talk with them. Their collective safety depended on them being happy. She thought about Chakotay, who was at that moment sending messages to London from the attic.

“Good evening, officers – how are you tonight?”

Catherine tried to keep her voice light and breezy, although she felt anything but. As she chatted with the two Cardassians, she tried to keep them amused enough to prevent them from asking about Sept. Where was that damned girl? The pianist was turning out tune after tune, but no one really listened to him. She signalled to Tuvok to bring them a bottle of their best Cognac – maybe if they drank enough, they would forget the singer was missing. As the night progressed, Catherine began to feel a little light-headed. She wasn’t drinking as much as the Cardassians, but the worry about Sept had been gnawing at her insides all evening and she hadn’t eaten anything, although she had offered the officers pâté and ham and they had made short work of it. As she looked at the diners, she suddenly felt uneasy – they usually had several German officers there in the evening, but there seemed to be too many that evening – and not only officers, but soldiers, too – armed soldiers, something she absolutely forbade. She turned back to the officers, about to protest, when she heard a scream coming from upstairs. She jumped to her feet, but the huge paw of one of the officers gripped her arm like a vice.

“You’re not going anywhere, Madame.”

Chapter 4

Catherine spun round and faced the officer: “Take your hands off me, sir!” The Cardassians both laughed, a sinister sound that echoed in the room, suddenly emptied of all civilians. What did they know? Could she think of a way to save herself and the others? She saw Tuvok, her bartender, handcuffed and pushed against the wall. As she was searching her brain frantically for anything to say that would save them all, a commotion at the door interrupted her train of thoughts and she felt her blood run cold. Chakotay, blood running from the corner of his mouth, his clothes in disarray, was flanked by two soldiers who were pointing their rifles at his head.

Catherine felt nausea rise in her and thought she was going to faint. She gritted her teeth – no way she would give those bastards that pleasure. She was so focused on trying to keep outwardly calm that she almost missed what one of the officers told her in a very smug tone.

“Oh – and by the way, Madame – we also have your little blonde whore at headquarters. And we know how to make her sing…”

Catherine fought to keep her composure – she glanced at Tuvok and envied his Vulcan impassibility – she knew her own eyes reflected her anguish. She still didn’t know what the Cardassians knew and she decided to keep mum – she would rather die than plead for mercy, anyway. Although she probably would do it if it meant saving Chakotay’s or Sept’s lives. As all three were handcuffed, bundled outside and thrown into a waiting truck, she wondered how she would fare under torture – would she be brave enough to remain silent?

Inside the truck, she caught Chakotay’s eyes and in his warm brown eyes, she found a new courage. She wasn’t alone – they were together against the enemy. In a very bad spot, but together. They both knew what would happen to them at the Cardassian headquarters – Catherine remembered all too well the first time she had been caught by them – at the time, they had mistaken her for someone else, and by the time she had been able to prove her identity, she had already been roughed up quite a lot. She still had nightmares about it. When she had been arrested in the company of one of her father’s friends, Owen Paris, she had been terrified – she wondered whether she was more or less so now. More, she decided, because then she had been naïve. The old man had been released, too, but he had never been the same.

She knew that all SOE agents normally carried a small dose of poison, enough for them to commit suicide before they broke under questioning, and she wanted Chakotay to know that she would understand if that was the choice she made. Only that was a little too much to ask to a simple look – so Catherine concentrated on making it as loving as possible. If they got out of this alive, she would do it – she would tell Chakotay she had fallen in love with him.

After about a half-hour’s drive, where they were jolted and jostled at every bump of the road, their bound hands preventing them from keeping upright, the truck stopped in front of the Cardassian headquarters and they were pushed out. Once inside, sharp commands in Cardassian ordered the soldiers to separate them and Catherine lost sight of her two companions. She was taken to a small dark underground cell where she was this time handcuffed to the wall. She thought wryly that seemed like an overabundance of precaution.

For the first hours – the first days, maybe, as she lost track of time – she thought about what she would say under questionning. At first she decided she wouldn’t answer, but then she began to wonder if she could spin a tale – make the Cardassians think they had made a mistake.


	4. Chapter 4

Why had on earth had she disengaged safety protocols? What was she thinking? Surely she must be going mad. It had been rammed into them at the Academy – never, ever run a holo-programme without them, or you could be killed. Well, she wasn’t dead, but she had never been in so much pain in her life. More than that time at the Academy when she had disobeyed the rules and run a close-combat programme without the safety precautions. She had been so furious then, so disappointed with herself because her combat instructor had lectured her in front of the whole class for fighting only with her body and not with her brain, that she had decided rules be damned… If she hadn’t been discovered by one of the teaching staff, she might have been gravely injured then. She had paid dearly for that infraction – in fact, if she hadn’t been her father’s daughter, she would probably have been thrown out of the Academy. But apparently she hadn’t learnt.

Kathryn Janeway lay down gingerly on her bed in her quarters, feeling each and every of her bones protest. She wondered if any were broken. She hoped not. She didn’t want to go to sickbay. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep but despite herself, the harrowing ordeal she had been through in the holodeck kept spinning round her head.

After what had seemed like weeks, she had been taken from her cell and brought to an office, where her interrogation had begun. When she had refused to talk, she had been severely beaten and thrown back into the cell once more. And the next day, more of the same – she had been thrown on her knees on a rod, a soldier forcing her to bear on it with all her weight. After a few more days, she had been brought to what she could only describe as a torture chamber and submerged into an ice cold bath – if she hadn’t had a lot of practise diving and swimming in her childhood and at the academy, that could have killed her. She had survived, and cruelly, her persecutor had offered her hot coffee afterwards, before another beating. It was only days later that she had seen a glimmer of hope. She had been dragged – by then she could hardly walk – to the office of another officer, one she had never seen before. At first, she hadn’t dared look at him, by then aware that anything could be construed as insolence and severely punished. But then he had started to talk and she had recognised him. Tom Paris – in the programme as in real life, a renegade whom she had helped and who was ready to help her in return. A spy who had infiltrated the Cardassians. And who gave her the means to escape, in a laundry van, hidden under dirty sheets.

Once free, she had gathered her wits and her troops, and ignoring her bruised and battered body screaming in agony, she had managed to gain entry to the headquarters via underground tunnels, liberate Tuvok and Chakotay and blow up the building.

She had waited until she was holding Chakotay in her arms and kissing him fiercely to end the programme. Even then, it had felt like a hollow victory, as she hadn’t been able to save Sept, who had been deported to a Cardassian camp. She would never know if in the holo-programme Seven had tried to betray them.

Janeway ran the dermo-regenerator on her face, erasing the most visible bruises. She knew why she had de-activated the safety protocols. Maybe, in a remote corner of her mind, she had wanted to punish herself for being depressed and not taking care of her crew as a captain should. But more than that, it had been the need to feel – to feel anything, even pain. Pain was better than nothingness. She was now experiencing mental agony as well as physical pain, for she hadn’t been able to rescue Seven in the programme. And the kiss – that kiss in which she and Chakotay had melted like long-time lovers – that kiss which was forbidden to her in real life, tore at her soul.

She managed to heal part of her wounds and drifted off into an uneasy slumber, from which she woke up unsettled and exhausted. Somehow, in her dreams, she had kissed Chakotay not under an archway in a small French village but on her bridge, in full view of everyone. She had started awake then, heart pounding, and it had taken her a few seconds to calm down and realise it had all been a dream, driven by her unconscious desires.

She got up, went for a sonic shower, wincing at every step, dressed carefully and decided she needed to see her real crew – she needed to see Tuvok fit and well, Seven alive and… Chakotay. She stepped into the bridge and all heads turned towards her. She nodded to Tuvok, at his usual place, to Harry Kim and to Chakotay before sitting into her chair.

“We missed you, Captain”, murmured Chakotay.

She smiled gratefully at him and tried not to see the bloody, battered man she had kissed in the holodeck. Tried to hide the urge to kiss him again, right there and then, and the pain of knowing she would never be able to. Not as long as she was the Captain and he her First Officer.

After about an hour, she turned towards him: “Can you hold the fort a little while longer? I need to go to Astrometrics.”

“Sure thing, Captain.”

She made her way to Astrometrics and noticed her heart seemed to be beating faster and louder. All she could hear was its steady throbbing. She went into Astrometrics and saw Seven bent over a console.

“How is it going, Seven?” she said, coming to look at whatever the young woman was doing.

“It is going well, Captain,” replied Seven, composed as usual. The relief of seeing her alive, in the flesh, was tremendous.

“But these charts are inefficient. If we recalibrated our sensors to…”

“We’ve had this conversation before, Seven. What you are suggesting would be against Starfleet protocols. I’ve already told you.”

“Starfleet protocols are inefficient, Captain.”

Infuriating, as usual…

“Seven, I said no. As you were!”

But Janeway had a smile on her face as she left the room to go back to the Bridge to relieve Chakotay. Whether she would have the courage or the foolishness to go against Starfleet regulations remained to be seen. But she knew that she was not alone.


End file.
